


Two Steps Nearer to My Grave

by crushondeanlikeafairy



Category: S.W.A.T. (TV 2017)
Genre: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Street Needs a Hug, Team Bonding, Team as Family, seriously, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushondeanlikeafairy/pseuds/crushondeanlikeafairy
Summary: Working towards self-improvement was no easy task, particularly since Street still had so far to go. Can a betrayal cause him to rethink his priorities and take the first step forward?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	Two Steps Nearer to My Grave

**Author's Note:**

> So this was technically written for a prompt from my fictober thing like back in November, but it got waaay too long lol  
> I also wrote this a few months ago, so that's why Luca is gone. But anyway I found it in my drafts since I'm self-isolating (yay! Fun!) and decided to finish it.
> 
> Title from Queen's "Keep Yourself Alive"

" _Do you think you're better every day?  
No, I just think I'm two steps nearer to my grave."_

Life was about moving forward. Like sharks, people always have to keep moving or they’ll drown in the world they’d created. The problem was, self-improvement wasn’t exactly on the list of easy things to do. Making a grilled cheese sandwich. Riding a bicycle. Walking. Those were all simple tasks. But ending each and every day a bit better of a person than you were when it started? That was nearly impossible. At least, that’s what Street thought of it. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying and, all things considered, he thought he’d been doing pretty good lately.

Things had been rough over the last few months. He’d nearly destroyed his relationship with Chris, that drama over a drunken kiss nearly ending their friendship. Fortunately, the two of them had been able to get back into their natural rhythm, though they never did discuss that night. The relationship he’d ruined beyond all recognition, and the one he regretted the most, was his mother.

He’d spent months after that last fight they’d had angry with her. Avoiding all contact to the point that he hadn’t even realized when she’d gone missing. His own mother. Even then, once he’d known, he let his emotions cloud his judgment and hadn’t let himself worry about her. So sure she off partying it up with her lowlife friends. In the end, he’d been right. But when he’d finally found her, he realized he’d been wrong too.

He knew it was crazy, but a small part of him blamed himself for the road his mother had gone down. She was an adult, capable of making her own choices. But he was sure if he had stuck by her he could have kept her from going back to prison. The more logical part of him knew that wasn’t true and that the only difference would have been him going down with her. But logic wasn’t nearly as old as emotions were and they won most of the time.

The only choice had been to call her parole officer, or else risk getting them both into even more trouble. Now, she’d been refusing his calls since having her parole revoked and he can’t say that he blamed her. But he was trying a new approach. More zen. Focusing on the things he can control, things that weren’t his mother. Letting life come to him for a change. Unfortunately, life had never liked him very much.

“I’m telling you, it is unnaturally quiet without Luca in the house,” Street complained as he and the others marched through the precinct, just having arrived back from a call. “The guy needs to get back here already.”

“The same goes for the team,” Tan agreed, “I never quite realized how loud the guy was ‘til he was gone.”

“Seriously?” Chris laughed, “You never realized _Luca_ was loud?”

“Well… okay, yeah. I concede.”

“If anyone has a personality loud enough to miss his presence, it’s Luca,” Deacon said.

“You all know healing takes time,” Hondo said, “Luca will be back before we know it. But it’s important he takes the time he needs or he’ll risk reinjuring himself again in the future.”

“I know,” Street conceded, “It’s still weird being in the house all by myself. It’s Luca’s house!”

“You have Duke,” Tan pointed out, “He’ll protect you from those ghosts you’re so scared of.”

“Who said anything about ghosts?”

“You said it was unnaturally quiet,” he shrugged, “I just put two and two together.”

“Yeah, and got five.”

The team chuckled as they made their way to the command center, ready to fill out their after-action paperwork while they waited for another call to come in. They sat in companionable silence as they worked and were all almost finished when Commander Hicks entered the room. He stood in the doorway, a stern expression etched into his face.

“Street,” he called.

The man in question turned his head, as did the rest of the team. He was mostly confused as to how their boss managed to look angry and concerned at the same time.

“My office. Now.”

“Is everything alright, Commander?” Hondo asked, curiosity lacing his voice, hiding the faint tone of worry underneath. A request like that was never good.

“We’ll see.” He stepped backward out of the doorway, turning his body to the side and waving for Street to follow.

Street looked questioningly at his team, shrugging in response to the mirroring glances being sent back at him. He stood from his seat, passing by Hicks as he exited the room. The walk to the office was tense, neither man saying a word to each other. Street wasn’t quite sure what he had done to warrant a call to the principal’s office. He’d been on his best behavior recently, not racking up a single disciplinary charge since he’d been reinstated on the team.

“Sit down,” Hicks said as they entered the office. He walked around his desk to sit at his chair, gesturing for Street to take the seat across.

He did as he was told, resting his hands on the armrests. “If I may, what’s this about, sir? Have I done something wrong?”

Hicks sighed, moving his chair closer to the desk to rest his forearms on the top, interlacing his fingers together. “I got a call from Narcotics. They got an anonymous tip that one of our officers was in possession of illicit drugs. Heroin to be precise.”

“And… what does that have to do with me?”

“The name they gave us was yours.”

Any questions he’d had after that flew out the window, as all he was able to do was sit there in stunned silence. Him? Heroin? His mind started racing to think of an explanation. He wasn’t exactly sure what drugs his mother had been doing, but she had been living in his apartment. It was possible she’d stashed some stuff there.

“They gave us the address you share with Officer Luca.”  
And there, any plausible explanation he could think of died.

“We’re going to be giving him a call since it is his residence. But your name was given specifically and the substance was found in what appeared to be your room.”

“Wait, they searched the house?” Street finally managed to ask.

Hicks nodded, “They were given a warrant. Rather quickly, I might add. Judges don’t like this sort of thing.”

“I don’t either!” Street exclaimed, “I don’t have any heroin!”

“Whether or not you put it there, it was in your possession. They need to do an investigation. Internal Affairs and the Standards Bureau are looking into this and it does not look good. For you or Luca.”

“Why Luca? You said they gave _my_ name.”

“He lives there too. An LAPD officer was found in possession of an illegal substance. This is very serious. I’m going to have to suspend you until the investigation is finished.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Street said, gripping the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing his eyes shut. He looked up at the Commander, “Do they have any idea who left the tip?”

Hicks shook his head, “It was made with a burner. The number’s dead. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. And there’s nothing you can do either. Just go home. Internal Affairs will call you when they’re ready to talk to you.”

Shell-shocked, all Street could do was muster a small, “Yes, sir,” and rise slowly from his chair. He made his way to the locker room to grab his things, his mind running a mile a minute. Thinking of ways to solve the problem. Thinking of explanations but, for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with anything. The only thing that made sense was that someone broke into his home and planted the stuff. But who? Why? He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Chris was tailing him.

“Hey!” she shouted, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking lightly to grab his attention. “What happened? What did Hicks say?”

He stopped just outside the door to the locker room, turning around to face her. The others were just behind her, expectant looks on their faces.

“Someone tipped Narcotics off that there was heroin in Luca’s house,” he said.

“What?!” Tan exclaimed.

“Someone called to say Luca had heroin?” Deacon asked.

“No, they called to say _I_ had heroin. They gave my name.”

“Hold up,” Hondo said, “They found some?”

Street shrugged, “I guess. I have no idea how it got there, but it was in my room. And, um, I’ve been suspended until they can launch an investigation. Oh, and Luca’s being looked into as well.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Who could’ve stashed heroin in your house?” Chris asked, “For that matter, why?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve been told to leave, so I can’t stay and find out.”

“Well, there’s no way in hell we’re just gonna leave this to Internal Affairs, right?” Chris said, turning to the others.

“No,” Hondo agreed, “They’re only interested in covering the department’s ass. We’ll do an investigation of our own. Street, go to your apartment to make sure it’s clean, in case whoever this is stashed anything there too. And call Luca to give him a head’s up. Some of us will go over to the house later today to look around.”

“What if I do find something? Won’t that make things look worse?”

“It’ll look a hell of a lot better if you find it and turn it in than if they search the place later and find it themselves,” Hondo explained, “Now get going, we’ll take care of things on our end here. Keep Hicks out of this for now and _nobody_ talk to Lieutenant Lynch.”

“Definitely not,” Tan agreed, “I don’t know who’s side she’s on, but it’s not ours.”

“Thanks, guys,” Street said, smiling softly. “I’m gonna get my things and I’ll head out.”

“Call me if you find anything,” Hondo ordered. He stepped closer to his teammate, resting a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll get this figured out. Don’t worry.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Street said, patting Hondo on the back once and heading for the locker room.

“What the hell?!” Luca shouted over the line, causing Street to yank the phone back from his ear. “Heroin?!”

“Yeah, man. Heroin. Keep up,” Street said, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled his key ring from his pocket. He unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside. Reaching up to grab the phone again, he paused for a moment, taking in the old apartment.

“So we’re both suspended?”

“Well, you’re on medical leave right now, so I think it’s a moot point. But basically, yeah,” Street explained, shutting the door behind him. He figured the best place to start would be the bedroom, so he made his way there. “I’m sorry to bring this trouble down on you, man. I know how important your S.W.A.T. record is to you.”

“I’m not worried about me!” Luca said, exasperated. “Someone’s clearly trying to set you up!”

Street paused beside the bed and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was trying so hard to turn things around.”

The line was quiet for a stretch, the two just sitting in the silence. Finally, Luca answered quietly, “I know you were, kid. Look… they’ll realize the stuff was planted.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Don’t think like that!” Luca admonished, “The heroin isn’t yours, right? So, of course, they’ll clear you.”

Street sat down on the edge of the bed, scuffing his boots across the carpet, watching as the pattern darkened one way and lightened when he kicked it back. “It’s just… I worked so hard to get back on the team last year, and I might be about to lose it again.”

“You’re not going to! And even if you did, this time it isn’t your fault.”

“It would be though, wouldn’t it?” Street said angrily, “I obviously did something to piss someone off enough that they’d plant drugs in my home!”

“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but you can’t control other people’s emotions. There is nothing you could have done to somebody that would justify them costing you your job.”

“And yours?” Street asked quietly, the rage drained out of him. “No matter how hard I try, I always find myself hurting someone I care about again.”

He shut his eyes, leaning forward on his knees. He couldn’t shake the image of Chris’ cold-shoulder, the look of indifference toward him whenever he tried to talk to her. The look of betrayal on his mother’s face as her parole officer took her away. And now he found himself picturing Luca, freaking out about ruining a three-generation family tradition. All because of him.

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Luca swore, “This is a setback, sure. But you’ve made so much progress this last year! It’s been so awesome watching you grow into this better version of yourself. Don’t negate all your hard work because of this, man.”

“Okay.”

“Good! Now get up and go kick some ass! Figure this problem out like you always do. And maybe clear my name too while you’re at it.”

Street chuckled, rising from his seat, “Well, I mean, I can try.”

“I’ll take it,” Luca laughed, “Look, I gotta go. I have a procedure coming up in a few minutes.”

“Alright, good luck.”

“Back at ya. See you soon.”

The line went dead and Street tossed his cellphone onto the bed. Having put his task off too long, he went about searching the apartment. He had to solve this. If not for himself, then for Luca.

The remaining members of the team found a break in calls a few hours later and decided it was the perfect time to search Luca’s house. They were on their way out when the Commander’s voice called after them.

“If you’re going where I think you’re going, you can stop right there.”

Hondo paused, pressing his lips together before turning on his heel to face his boss. The rest of the team following suit. “Sir, with all due respect, I-”  
“Gotta help your guy. Yeah, I know. You don’t have to.”

“Sorry?”

Hicks moved closer to the group so he could lower his voice, keeping the conversation between just them and not the passersby. “Internal Affairs didn’t find Street _or_ Luca’s prints on the bag the drugs were in, or anything to link it to them. That combined with the weird tip, they’re leaning our way. They did find another set of prints though. They’re running them right now and they’ve already sent someone back to the house to dust for a matching pair.”

“That’s great!” Tan exclaimed.

“Exactly,” Hicks agreed, “So… don’t head over there and raise a fuss. You go over there and run into their agent, it’s not gonna look good. This is going our way. Just lay low for now.”

“Sir, we have to do something,” Chris argued.

“There’s nothing you can do. Let them conduct their investigation,” Hicks said, “Those drugs don’t belong to Street. You know it, I know it. And eventually, they’ll figure that out too. It’ll just take a minute.”

“Or all day,” Tan grumbled.

“Or a few days,” Deacon added.

Hicks leveled a stern look at each of them. “Stay away from the investigation. You’ll do more harm than good, _trust me._ ”

The Commander waited until they all nodded in agreement before turning and heading back to his office. Hondo turned to address the team before the complaints he sensed were coming could arrive.

“Alright, listen up. I don’t like this any more than you do, but he’s right. If they’re on our side right now and we get nosy, we could make things worse. It shouldn’t take ‘em long to run those prints and then we’ll have more to work with. Until then, let’s get back to work.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Deacon agreed, trying to rally up an apprehensive Chris and Tan. “Keep our mind off things for a little while. Besides, we got a job to do.”

It was a long day for everyone involved, even Luca down in San Francisco. And rather than get shorter, each passing second only made the day feel longer. Eventually, the Standards Bureau called Street back to the station for his interview. Chris knew exactly how it was going to go. They’d ask him questions he didn’t know the answers to. Like where the drugs came from. How they got there. Who could have put them there if it wasn’t him? These were all still blanks in his mind, so he couldn’t exactly fill them in on the Bureau’s form. The only answer he’d be able to give them with a hundred percent certainty was that both he and Luca had nothing to do with it. But anyone in this building could have told them that.

They all went about business as usual, they had a job to do after all. But that didn’t stop Chris from wishing she could do _something_. But Hondo was right, there was nothing any of them could do and so she spent the day feeling the same sort of helplessness she was sure her best friend was feeling too.

Finally, just after their shift was scheduled to end, Hicks called Hondo into his office. He was only gone about twenty minutes but, for the rest of the team waiting in the locker room, it felt like an eternity. When he came back, they all eagerly awaited the news but the grim look on their leader’s face didn’t bode well.

“What’s the news, boss?” Chris asked, “Was it about Street and Luca?”

Hondo nodded, raising a folder he had in his hand. “They found the match to the fingerprints. They’re cleared.”

“That’s great news!” Tan exclaimed.

“It is.” Deacon agreed, “So, then why don’t you look happy?”

Hondo looked down and sighed, silently handing the folder to Deacon. Chris and Tan exchanged confused glances before shuffling closer to Deac to read over his shoulder. They all connected the dots at the same time, Deacon closing the folder and handing it back to Hondo.

“How are we going to tell him?” Chris asked, unable to hide the wounded expression on her face.

“I’ll break the news. I’m team leader, it’s my job,” Hondo said.

“Hondo, we should do it as a team.”

“Deac, this is going to be a hard conversation. I should-”

“No, he’s right,” Chris argued, “I need to be there. We all do. This is a family and he needs us right now.”

Hondo looked at each member of his team before finally nodding. “Alright, let’s go find him.”

The search didn’t take long. After his interview, he’d been asked to stay in case Internal Affairs wanted to speak with him as well, so he was still in the building. Eventually, the group found him in the kitchen, sitting at one of the tables, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. To Chris, he looked tired, with an elbow propped on the table to hold his head up. But then, it had been a stressful day.

“Street,” Hondo called when the other man didn’t look up upon their entry.

He lifted his head, setting his phone down on the counter. “Do you guys have any idea how long they expect me to wait here? It’s been hours.”

“That’s what we’re here to talk about,” Hondo explained, taking the seat across from Street. Tan and Deac sat on either side of their boss and Chris went around to sit beside Street.

He could tell something was up, there was a fair amount of nervous energy in the room that wouldn’t be hard to read. He glanced between each of them before his eyes landed firmly on Hondo. “You heard something?”

Hondo set the folder down on the table, crossing his hands on top of it. “They got a match on the fingerprints found on the heroin. The same set was also on the back door in your house, so they can place him at the scene. They have him in custody and he confessed to everything. You and Luca are cleared.”

“Really?” Street exclaimed, instantly reaching for his phone, “That’s awesome! I’ve got to call Luca!”  
“I already did,” Hondo said, reaching out to stop Street. “There’s something else.”

He slowly set his phone back down on the table, and Chris could see his preparing for whatever bad news he was about to hear. He sat up straight, squaring his shoulders, a grim line settling on his face. But he did not break eye contact with Hondo.

Hondo opened the folder and turned it around, sliding it across the table so Street could look at it. “Kid, the guy who did this. He told us his girlfriend put him up to it. We dug her up and found that she’s currently incarcerated in the same correctional facility as your mom.”

It worried Chris, even more, when he didn’t react immediately, eyes fixed on the pages in the folder.

“Street,” Deacon said softly, “Your mother had those drugs planted in your home. She framed you.”

That did it. He leaned back like someone had struck him, taking in a deep shaky breath. Chris reached out to rub comforting circles on his back.

Street closed the folder. “No, it has to be a coincidence. She- she wouldn’t do something like that.”

“She did almost the exact same thing to me, Street, remember? I meddled in her business and she tried to get me fired,” Hondo said.

“That’s different! You were a stranger! I’m…”

“What?” Tan asked, “Her son? Her family? That stuff doesn’t seem to matter to her.”

Chris moved her hand up to grip Street’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around his back.

“No,” he insisted, trying to remain firm but she could see it was crumbling, “She could never intentionally hurt me like that.”

“Couldn’t she?” Chris whispered, looking up at him sadly.

Street’s eyes met hers and for a moment she wished she could take it all back. Tell Hondo that maybe he didn’t need to know. His mother was already in prison and was already not speaking to him. They could have said they caught the guy and left it at that. There was no need to shatter the last remaining bit of faith he had in his mom. They could have let him live in ignorance just a little bit longer. It would have been easier for everyone. She wouldn’t have to see that pain in his eyes right now. But it was too late now. The damage was done.

“I need some air,” he said suddenly, pushing his chair back and fleeing for the door.

The team watched him go, Hondo sighed and hung his head. Chris wiped the tears from her eyes before they could fall.

“When will she stop hurting him?” she asked, looking back at the boys.

“As soon as he stops letting her,” Deacon answered simply, moving his eyes away from the door their teammate had disappeared through and onto Chris.

“He didn’t _let_ her do this!” Chris argued, “He wasn’t even speaking to her.”

“I don’t mean this,” Deacon clarified, “I mean, she keeps proving that she’s not somebody that can be counted on. That she has no regard for him when it comes to her own self-interest. And every time, she breaks his heart.”

“Yeah,” Tan said, “But this… how was he supposed to anticipate something like _this_? Even if he had accepted her for who she was.”

“He did,” Hondo said, “He knows what she’s like. But we all know how he is with his mom. He’s never gonna be able to just let that go. Even if he wanted to, the kid was about as far removed from her as he could get and she still found a way to mess him up.”

Chris sighed, noticing Street’s phone still sitting on the table. She grabbed it and put it in her pocket. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

She found him outside in the motor pool, pacing back and force between the wall and his motorcycle. He was moving away from her when she stepped outside, but soon spun on his heel and began to pace back. Chris held up his phone to get his attention and he stopped, checking his pockets. He came toward her, taking the device with a whispered thanks. 

Street put his phone in his pocket and leaned back against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his head rest back against the wall as let out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry about all this,” she said, stepping closer to him until she stood right beside him.

He brought his head down and shook it back and forth, “I don’t know why I’m still surprised.”

“Cause she’s your mother and you love her. We want to see the best in the people we love. And besides, this is different. In the past, she’s only ever inadvertently gotten you into trouble because she was selfish. I mean this is deliberately trying to hurt you. This is vindictive. You couldn’t have seen this coming.”

“I should have.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

He shrugged, glancing over his shoulder in the opposite direction, away from her. “It’s always my fault.”

She knew no matter how much she told him he was wrong it wouldn’t change his mind. So she turned and leaned back against the wall too, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“I just… I don’t know how to make this make sense in my head,” he said quietly, looking down to the sidewalk in front of him. “How can the woman who saved my life be the same woman who would ruin my life and for what? All because I turned her in to her parole officer? I mean, I get why she’d be angry but at least I was doing what I thought was best for her. She… she just wanted to hurt me.”

Chris was trying to find the right words to say but he continued.

“That’s not even what makes me mad,” he confessed, “I’m mad with myself because I’ll forgive her. I’ll be angry for a bit and then I’ll forgive her. And she doesn’t deserve it but I wouldn’t be standing here right now if it wasn’t for her. I owe her _everything_ and she knows it.”

“You don’t owe her anything. She’s your mother. It was her job to protect you,” Chris reminded him. “She makes you feel like you owe her to manipulate you. That’s her failing, not yours. Nothing you do could make her right or make you somehow deserve it. The fact that you somehow manage to keep forgiving her is just proof of how good a man you really are.”

“Or stupid,” he scoffed.

“Or good,” she insisted, before smiling softly, “And a little stupid.”

He laughed for a moment, a small, sad laugh. Street let his gaze drop to his feet and his voice got so quiet that Chris could barely hear him. “I keep trying to clean up my life. To get better. But I don’t think I can do it.”

“How could you say something like that?” Chris asked, astonished, “You’ve come so far since you joined this team. All that hard work you’ve been putting in has been worth something!”

“I thought so too. But then something like this happens,” he said, “Sure, I didn’t cause this. I didn’t actually keep heroin in my home. But I’m not fully convinced this isn’t at least partially my fault. If I had handled the situation with my mom differently…”

“She still would have gone back to prison. The only difference would be you would have lost your job. _Again_ ,” she said firmly. “I know she’s your mother, and that people like to see the best in their parents, but-”

“It’s not that,” he muttered, “I _need_ her to be a good person.”

“What do you mean?”

Street shuffled anxiously, squeezing his arms tighter around himself as he ducked his shoulders forward. “I helped her murder my father. I mean, he was a monster, but he was my father. And I’ve spent my whole life running away from it. From all of it. From them. Trying to pretend that I can be more. I need what she did to be the right thing, because if it wasn’t… what does that make me?”

“A scared child doing what his mother told him to do.”

Chris pushed herself off the wall, turning toward him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

"You're nothing like her. Like either of them for that matter. Sure, you grew up in pain but you have dedicated your life to making sure other people don't have to go through that. You're brave and kind and you care so much about total strangers that you would die for them in a heartbeat. Every morning you get up and you _choose_ to make the world a better place. That makes you a good man. Not because of them, they don't get the credit. You became all that, you made yourself all that, in spite of them."

He still wouldn’t look up at her, instead turning his head away again.

“Look,” she continued, “You know I don’t trust easy. We have that in common. I trust _you_. Not just with my life. With _everything_. You earned that.”

Street finally looked up at her, a small smile on his face. But his eyes quickly darted over her shoulder and she turned to find Hondo standing a few feet behind her near the doorway.

“She’s right, kid,” Hondo said by way of greeting.

“She usually is,” Street huffed.

“Sometimes you screw up. And sometimes life takes it upon itself to screw you. It happens to everyone. The important part is that you try every day to be better. That is what I, and this entire team, sees in you. So don’t you come in here and tell me that you’re some kind of failure because I will kick your ass.”

Street laughed and nodded. He stood up straight, finally letting his arms drop, his wrists crossed in front of him.

“Thanks, guys. Not just for this, but for having my back today. It means a lot.”

Hondo stepped closer and clapped his hand on Street’s shoulder, “You never have to ask.”

“That’s what makes us a team,” Chris said.

“That’s what makes us family,” Hondo corrected, grinning ear to ear. “Now, come on. It’s been a long day and I want to get outta here.”

“Street,” Chris asked as she and Hondo started heading back inside to change out of their tac gear, “Wanna go for a beer or something?”

“I’m actually just gonna head out,” he called, gesturing toward his bike, “I have something I need to take care of.”

Hondo paused, looking back over his shoulder, arching his brow. “You need help opening that can of worms?”

“No,” Street said, grabbing his helmet off the back of his motorcycle. “I need to do this.”

Hondo nodded in understanding, “See you tomorrow.”

He grabbed the door and held it open for Chris to pass through and then disappeared into the precinct. Street pulled his helmet on, leaving the strap loose under his chin. Taking a deep breath, he hopped onto his bike and revved the engine.

Visiting hours were almost over at California Correctional and he was lucky to be let in. One of the few benefits of being a familiar face in the visitor’s room. One of the downsides was that each guard had to remark on how long it’s been since they’d seen him.

When his mother came through the door, he was surprised. He had to admit, he had been half-expecting her to refuse the visit. He didn’t rise to greet her as he normally would have. She came walking into the room, stoic and standing tall, and sat down silently across from him. She had that indignant look on her face, the one he hated so much, that she wore whenever he’d said something to upset her. It always made him feel so small.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, choosing instead to sit in the awkward silence. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

“It’s the first time you’ve visited since you put me back in here,” she remarked once it became clear he wasn’t going to start the conversation. Directly to it, waiting for him to rush to defend himself. Not today.

“I’m going to ask you this once. Tell me the truth. No lies.” he said evenly, looking up at her across the table. “Did you have someone plant heroin in my home?”

“What?” she scoffed, scandalized. Her hand shot to her chest. “How could you think that you’re own mother w-”

“I said no lies,” he repeated.

She stopped, the charade vanishing as she dropped her hand back to the table. “Well, I had to get your attention.”

“I’ve been calling you for months. If you wanted my attention, why not pick up the phone?”

“It wouldn’t have had the same impact, now would it?” she said, “I could have screamed until I was blue in the face how much you’d hurt me, it wouldn’t have made any difference. You’d still sit there believing that you only did what was best for me.”

“I did,” he answered firmly, “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I’ve been beating myself up about it for months. Wondering if I made the right choice. But you didn’t leave me any other choice. If I hadn’t have done what I did, you could have cost me my job-”

“There you go about that job again!” she said, the tone of her voice getting higher. “You care more about that job than you do about your own mother.”

Street leaned back, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You think I chose my job over you so you tried to get me fired?”

“I think you betrayed me,” she said coldly, “I wanted you to know how it felt.”

The table fell into silence again as he reeled, trying to grasp how his mother could ever do something like this to him. To someone she claimed to love.

“When I called your parole officer, I was trying to help you. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I did what was best for you. When you had your friend place illicit drugs in my home, you were trying to hurt me. Don’t you see how those are different?”

“But, Jimmy, baby, we’re even now,” she said, smiling and suddenly cheerful, “We can get back to the way things were.”

“No,” he shook his head. He had to make this quick. Tears were welling in his eyes and if they feel it would only make this harder. “You and me, we’re finally done.”

Now it was her turn to look shaken. She stuttered for a moment before she could speak, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not going to visit you again. And I’m not going to be leaving anymore calls for you to ignore.”

“Jimmy, I’ll… I’ll answer the phone-”

“And when they offer you parole again,” he pressed on, needing to keep his momentum if he was gonna power through this, “you can’t stay with me. I’ll line up housing and a job for you, but from then you’ll be on your own. And if you violate your parole again, I’ll stay out of it. I’ll let you clean up your own mess for once.”

“Jimmy,” she gasped quietly, her face crumbling and any facade she’d worn before fell too. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was genuinely seeing her. When he started to rise from his seat she rushed forward, grabbing his hand and holding on tightly. “Don’t… don’t go.”

It took every ounce of willpower in him to force his gaze up to her tear-stained face. It was the final straw and his own tears fell.

“You’d really choose your job over me?” she cried.

“It’s not the job. It’s my team. My family. The closest thing to one I’ve ever had.”

“But, _we’re_ family!”

“We’re not. I think I just realized that.”

It was like the strings on a wooden doll had been cut as she collapsed back onto the bench. The grip on his hand slackened, but he’d leaned forward so his hand remained clasped in hers. “Please,” she pleaded, “I’ll be better, Jimmy. I promise.”

He shook his head slowly, gently removing his hand from her grip. He answered, his voice barely above a whisper, “I can’t come back.”

Then he turned his back on her, thanking whatever deity was up there that she didn’t plead anymore as he left. His resolve was crumbling and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this if she called after him one more time.

He wanted to be better every day. He wanted to start every morning and be able to recognize just how far he’d come. In the last twenty years, even in the last two. Even in just the most recent twenty-four hours. He wanted that zen. To focus on the things he could control. And his mother would never be one of those things. Her actions were her own and he’d spent most of his life believing they were on him. He couldn’t do that anymore.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. Nothing ever was. And he knew deep down that he’d always be there for her when she really needed it. He’d been doing it since he could walk. He just wasn’t going to let himself get hurt in the process. Not anymore. Little by little, he’d release himself and he’d heal a little every day.

He reached the end of the hall, exiting the prison and stepping outside, and he stopped and took a deep breath. When he closed his eyes. basking in the last rays of the Los Angeles sun, he finally felt free.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I meant for this to be a happy ending when I started writing this, and not so like bittersweet. But I kinda like it.


End file.
